Janice Meredith eBook

The steady gray eyes were turned deliberately from
the captain until the questioner was within their
vision. Then, after a moment’s scrutiny
of his face, they were slowly dropped so as to take
in the merchant from head to foot. Finally they
came back to the face again, and once more studied
it with intentness, though apparently without the
slightest interest.

“Come,” said the merchant a little heatedly,
and flushing at the man’s coolness. “Answer
me. Are ye used to horses and gardening?”

As if he had not heard the question, the man turned,
and resumed his staring at the water.

“None of your damned impertinence!” roared
the captain, catching up the free part of a halyard
coiled on the deck, “or I’ll give you
a taste of the rope’s end.”

The young fellow faced about in sudden passion, which
strangely altered him. “Strike me at your
peril!” he challenged, his arm drawn back, and
fist clinched for a blow.

“None but a jail-bird would be so afraid of
telling about himself,” cried the captain, though
ceasing to threaten. “The best thing you
can do will be to turn the cursed son of a sea cook
over to the authorities, Mr. Cauldwell.”

“Look ye, my man,” warned the merchant,
“ye only bring suspicion on yourself by such
conduct, and ye know best how far ye want to have
your past searched into—­”

The man interrupted the merchant.

“Ar bain’t much usen to gardening, but
ar knows—­” he hesitated for a moment
and then went on, “but ar bai willin’
to work.”

“Ay,” bawled the captain. “Fear
of the courts has made him find his tongue.”

“Well,” remarked the merchant, “’t
is not for my interest to look too closely at a man
I have for sale.” Then, as he walked away
with the captain, he continued: “Many a
convict or fugitive has come to the straightabout
out here, but hang me if I like his looks or his manner.
However, Mr. Meredith knows the pot-luck of redemptioners
as well as I, and he can say nay if he chooses.”
He stopped and eyed the group of emigrants sourly,
saying, “I’ll let Gorman hear what I think
of his shipment. He knows I don’t want mere
bog cattle.”

“’T is a poor consignment that can’t
be bettered in the advertisement,” comforted
the captain, and apparently he spoke truly, for in
the “Pennsylvania Gazette” of September
7th appeared the following:—­

“Just arrived on board the brig ‘Boscawen,’
Alexander Caine, Master from Ireland, a number of
likely, healthy, men and women Servants; among whom
are Taylors, Barbers, Foiners, Weavers, Shoemakers,
Sewers, Labourers, etc., etc., whose indentures
are to be disposed of by Cauldwell & Wilson, or the
master on board the Vessel off Market Street Wharff—­
Said Cauldwall & Wilson will give the highest prices
for good Pot-Ashes and Bees-Wax.”